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In the middle of winter that year, he walked on the snow to a plum tree, held up a plum blossom, and blew the falling snow on the plum blossom. Someone came from afar and asked:
"If there is no snow, how can we call it a plum blossom?"
Su Ci looked up and saw that it was him, and his eyes were startled. He was slowly coming in a dark cloak. His head was covered with white snow, his eyelashes were covered with white frost, and his cheeks were marked with unruly brows. The cold wind was still, and the sky was silent. Every time he took a step towards him, he could hear the sound of boots scraping against the snow. He walked up to Su Ci and looked up at the tall plum branches. The heavy snow was scattered like goose feathers. He closed his eyes, and every breath turned into cold mist.
Su Ci looked at this scene and felt sadness welling up in his heart. He didn't know what to say for a moment. After a long time, he opened his lips slightly and asked:
"When will the snow stop?"
He didn't answer, but suddenly a biting cold wind came, roaring and biting, Su Ci couldn't help but tremble, so he rubbed his hands. He looked at Su Ci's cold-red nose and fingers, and couldn't help but frown. He took off his cloak and put it on him. Su Ci looked at him, and his eyes were intense, as if he wanted to melt the ice and snow at this moment, and also him.
Intention: intrigue, mutual sympathy, ultimate strategy, and everyone's hope.